Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Hurricane Island by H. B. Marriott Watson (spicy books to read TXT) 📖
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She shuddered. Pye's shrieks rang in my ear; I glanced off the taffrail and saw that the mutineers had possession of the boat. They were busy with the oars. I could see no one else. The boat was headed towards us.
Legrand cast a glance of indifference backwards.
"If you care to hold the wheel, Phillimore, we can rig that other sail," he said.
I took the wheel. Alix was by my side, and the breeze sang in the sheets.
"We're going home, dear heart," I whispered.
She moved closer to me, shuddered and sighed, and I think the sigh was a sigh of contentment.
The _Sea Queen_ dipped her nose and broke into a sharper pace. She was going home!
THE END
Imprint
She shuddered. Pye's shrieks rang in my ear; I glanced off the taffrail and saw that the mutineers had possession of the boat. They were busy with the oars. I could see no one else. The boat was headed towards us.
Legrand cast a glance of indifference backwards.
"If you care to hold the wheel, Phillimore, we can rig that other sail," he said.
I took the wheel. Alix was by my side, and the breeze sang in the sheets.
"We're going home, dear heart," I whispered.
She moved closer to me, shuddered and sighed, and I think the sigh was a sigh of contentment.
The _Sea Queen_ dipped her nose and broke into a sharper pace. She was going home!
THE END
Imprint
Publication Date: 09-15-2009
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
TO RICHARD BRERETON MARRIOTT WATSON MY KEEN YET APPRECIATIVE CRITIC, WHO PLEADED ON BEHALF OF THE VILLAINS, THIS TALE OF ADVENTURE BY SEA IS DEDICATED WITH LOVE BY ITS AUTHOR AND HIS
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